Everyone looked at Li Ziqing expectantly, almost urgently. Their gazes danced between the dishes and her face, eyes wide with anticipation. The enticing aromas had already stirred their appetite, and all three looked moments away from reaching for their chopsticks.
Li Ziqing couldn't help but find their expressions both adorable and endearing. But she couldn't let them eat just yet—this dinner wasn't simply a meal. It was a message. A tribute. A turning point.
She turned to her mother, her voice calm but carrying an unshakable reverence.
"Mom, you're right. This isn't just food—it's art."
The room quieted as her words settled.
"This," she gestured gently to the table, "is the legacy of our ancestors. The dishes before you are not ordinary home-cooked meals—they come from the banquet tables of the Qing Dynasty's royal kitchens. Each one crafted by imperial chefs who treated cuisine not as survival, but as a sacred ritual. A symphony of color, aroma, taste, and meaning."
She looked at her uncle and brother in turn, her tone softening, yet firm.
"In Chinese culinary tradition, it's not just about the flavor—it's about the process of creation, the grace of technique, and the elegance of presentation. We don't just fill the stomach—we nourish the spirit."
She paused, then added thoughtfully, "In the words of Yuan Mei, the great Qing Dynasty gastronome, 'Cooking is not about extravagance, but about harmony. The food must satisfy not just the tongue, but the eyes and the heart.'"
A moment of silence followed, as the trio absorbed her words.
"These eight dishes you see here tonight—each of them is a revival from the Qing imperial banquet. They are rare, refined, and almost forgotten by time. I wanted to share them with the people I love the most… not just to impress, but to honor. And also—because I have something important to discuss with you all."
She smiled gently.
"So… let's begin. But remember, every bite you take tonight carries history, so try to live in a moment."
All three at the table—Li Jianfang, Li Zian, and Li Jianping—were stunned into a brief silence.
They didn't know what had compelled Li Ziqing to speak with such depth, such pride, but her words stirred something within them. The revelation that the eight dishes were not just extravagant meals but royal cuisine passed down from the Qing Dynasty filled the modest dining room with an air of solemnity.
Each dish now felt like a living artifact, a fragment of history revived with love and purpose.
Li Jianfang's eyes welled faintly. She picked up her chopsticks slowly, as though she feared disturbing the artistry on her plate. "To think… you've prepared this for us…"
Li Jianping, who normally laughed through meals, was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked at the Crystal Duck Tongue in Osmanthus Jelly with awe, as if holding a piece of jade. "I don't know how to eat something that looks like this," he muttered, voice half-joking, half-humbled.
Li Zian, for once, didn't quip back. He silently picked up a piece of the Jade Tofu with Minced Abalone and placed it into his mouth.
The moment the tofu touched his tongue, his eyes widened.
"…Whoa."
That was all he could say.
The texture was soft yet rich, the abalone lending an oceanic sweetness that was balanced perfectly by the earthy aroma of scallion oil. It melted on his tongue like snowflakes kissed by spring sun.
Li Jianping followed with a bite of the Braised Sea Cucumber with Scallion Essence. He let out an audible exhale as he chewed.
"…A—Qing. This is… divine." He blinked, almost startled by the richness of flavor. "How does something so… gentle taste this powerful?"
Li Jianfang tasted the Steamed Mandarin Fish with Fragrant Oil, and the delicate blend of light soy, ginger, and the silkiness of the fish nearly brought her to tears.
One by one, they explored each dish.
The Lotus-Seeded Shrimp Dumplings burst with tender sweetness and chewy silk skin.
The Braised Quail in Yellow Wine and Ginseng Broth warmed them to their bones.
The Imperial Deer Tendon Stir-fried with Chestnut had the perfect balance of chewiness and richness, like biting into gold-laced history.
And when they bit into the Dragon Beard Pastry, the honeyed jujube inside melted on their tongues, light as cloud, sweet as memory.
For a while, no one spoke. The only sounds were the soft clink of chopsticks, the faint sighs of satisfaction, and the occasional murmured praise that couldn't be held back. Even Li Ziqing who personally made this dishes was entranced with it, because today was the first time she made it and first time tasted it.
Li Jianping was the first to break the silence. "A-Qing…" he looked at her with misty eyes, "You've created more than a meal. This—this is unforgettable."
Li Zian nodded solemnly, swallowing another bite. "You said it carries history. I think… it carries your heart, too."
Li Jianfang reached across the table and gently held her daughter's hand. "Ziqing, I don't know what's changed in you, but… thank you. For letting us be a part of something so extraordinary."
Li Ziqing's eyes softened. Her heart swelled.
This was just the beginning.
Li Ziqing took the final, delicate bite of the Dragon Beard Pastry. With a soft exhale, she placed her chopsticks down and quietly waited.
One by one, the others finished as well, their movements slow and content. The table, once adorned with exquisite royal dishes, now stood bare—plates licked clean, serving bowls emptied to the last drop. There wasn't even a need to wash them.
A hushed silence enveloped the dining room.
The flavors still lingered on their tongues, the warmth of the meal settling into their hearts. No one dared speak. Each person remained suspended in the lingering reverence of what they had just experienced.
Li Ziqing didn't rush to interrupt the moment. She allowed them to sit with it—to savor not just the food, but the emotion, the history, the care she had poured into every dish.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her calm voice broke the silence.
"Once, my master told me there's a place in Beijing," she began, her gaze steady and thoughtful. "A place where the descendants of the royal chefs from the Qing Dynasty still preserve this lost culinary heritage. Most of these dishes have vanished with time. Those that remain are nearly impossible to replicate. Yet this hidden place still exists—unmarked, tucked away from public eyes."
All eyes turned to her, intrigued.
"It's known only to those within aristocratic circles," she continued, "and even they must book reservations two to three months in advance. When you arrive, you don't order. You simply receive what the chefs have chosen to prepare that day. Each meal… costs between one to two million yuan."
There was an audible gasp.
Li Jianfang's lips parted slightly in disbelief.
Li Jianping blinked twice as if trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.
And Li Zian nearly choked on his breath. "Two million?" he muttered, stunned.
Ziqing gave a small, knowing smile at their reactions.
"I know it sounds unbelievable," she said gently, "especially for us. Spending even ten thousand yuan on a single meal would be unimaginable. But that's exactly why I'm telling you this."
She leaned forward slightly, her tone growing firm yet passionate.
"I want you to understand just how lucrative and enduring the food and hospitality industry truly is. It's one of the rare industries where demand never fades—because people will always eat. But more than that, people are willing to pay for experience, for heritage, for taste that lingers in memory."
Her eyes swept across their faces, gauging their thoughts.
"Think about it. That hidden restaurant in Beijing—aristocratic families from across China, even the world, compete to secure a spot. They're willing to spend millions for a moment of divine indulgence. Doesn't that speak volumes?"
Suddenly, a thought crossed Li Jianfang's mind. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze fixed on her daughter.
"A'Qing… where exactly are you going with all this?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
Li Ziqing immediately understood her mother's concern. She smiled reassuringly, her tone soft and composed. "Mom, don't worry. I know my priorities. My main focus is still my studies. I'm not distracted, and I'm not getting ahead of myself."
Li Jianfang exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
But then, just as she relaxed, Li Ziqing added calmly, "But it doesn't have to be me, Mom. You could venture into this business."
"What?" Li Jianping was the first to react, his voice rising in surprise.
Both Li Jianfang and Li Zian turned to Li Ziqing, stunned.
Ziqing didn't flinch under their gaze. She simply smiled and leaned forward slightly, her voice steady and persuasive. "You've tasted today's dishes, haven't you? If one day, we open our own restaurant—serving food like this—what do you think would happen?"
Li Zian spoke without thinking. "People would die to get a table at that restaurant," he said, eyes wide, awe-struck.
Li Ziqing's lips curved. "Exactly. So what do you all think? Should we step into the real food business—not just a roadside food stall, but a proper high-end restaurant?"
There was a moment of silence.
Then Li Zian practically bounced in his seat with excitement. "Wow, A'Qing, you're right! If we opened a restaurant like that, we'd shake the entire hotel industry in Wuhan! No—maybe all of Hubei, or even beyond!" he exclaimed, eyes sparkling with dreams.
Li Ziqing smiled, warm and amused. My brother has always dreamed big, she thought affectionately.
But her mother and uncle weren't swept away by the excitement so easily. Li Jianfang and Li Jianping exchanged a glance, their expressions hesitant, their gazes returning to the two younger ones as if trying to pull them back to reality.
"Enough," Li Jianfang said sharply, slicing through the rising enthusiasm. She turned to her daughter, her tone stern. "Didn't you just say you're focusing on your studies? Then why bring up restaurants and business ventures now? You'll have time for all that once you graduate. You've got potential, A'Qing, unlimited potential—you don't need distractions."
"But I'm not talking about me getting involved, Mom," Li Ziqing replied firmly. "I'm talking about you."
"Me?" Li Jianfang was genuinely stunned. "How could I possibly make dishes like that? I can barely cook beyond the basics. I just make enough to keep our food stall running…"
Li Ziqing faltered. She didn't have a ready retort, because it was true—her mother had never trained professionally. But just then, the system's familiar mechanical voice rang in her mind.
[Ding... Host, don't worry about anything right now. Just convince her.]
Ziqing took a deep breath and nodded inwardly.
"Mom, don't worry," she said with conviction. "I'll teach you. I still have nearly a month of vacation left. And you already have a foundation. You're not a beginner—you just need refinement. Once school starts, I'll teach you every evening, every weekend. Slowly, step by step."
"But we don't have the money to start something like this," Li Jianping cut in, more grounded in reality. "It's not just about learning the recipes. The cost of opening a restaurant…"
Li Jianfang nodded in agreement.
"I'm not saying we open a restaurant right away," Ziqing replied calmly. "We take our time. Let Mom learn. Let her master both royal cuisine and the home-style dishes we already serve. Once we have something solid, something unique, we can change the business model of our food stall and collect some money from there. And when the time comes, we'll find a way—apply for a government startup loan, or partner with someone. Food is one industry where profit starts from the first customer."
The room fell into thoughtful silence.
After a moment, Li Jianping nodded slowly. "I think… A'Qing is right. We can at least try."
"Yes, I agree!" Li Zian chimed in quickly. "It'll be amazing. I'll help however I can."
Li Jianfang, however, remained still. Her eyes flicked between her children, her brows creased, her lips pressed into a tight line. Something deep within her was wavering—but fear, years of hardship, and disappointment weighed heavy.
Seeing this, Li Ziqing stood up, walked behind her, and gently held her mother's hand.
"Mom," she said quietly but clearly, "do we really want to live like this forever? In this slum in the Northern District—barely getting by, looked down upon by Grandpa and our uncles like we're nothing?"
Her mother flinched slightly.
"We can do better. You can do better. Let's stop waiting for miracles and become the miracle ourselves."
For a moment, Li Jianfang didn't speak. Her eyes shimmered faintly. Her lips parted slightly, and then closed again. She looked at her daughter, the strength in her eyes, the fire in her words.
And then—finally—she nodded.
"Alright," she said softly. "Let's give it a try."
[Daily Daily Mission: Convince Li Jianfang to change her business model and aim for progress and excellence. Complete...
Reward: Skill Echo Coupan ×1 ]